Never Enter the Mansion Down Little Green Lane
by SomethingSimsy
Summary: Alfred Jones is a slayer of beasts, and there's no greater being to defeat than a vampire – master of disguise, mind-control and seduction. Of course, when Alfred Jones enters the mansion at the end of Little Green Lane, he never has the intention to fall on his knees to the monster's powers – but is that just a promise he cannot keep for Arthur Kirkland? – Vampire AU USUK UKUS
1. Chapter 1: A Story of Lies

**Summaries**** for what is learnt in each chapter will be at the bottom of the page in case anyone is interested or confused.**

**Warnings**** will be at the top if they are too explicit to generally fall under the T rating or if I think they could bring you discomfort, so you can be prepared or skip them if necessary. For this chapter, however, I will issue no warnings. Everything is T-rated here, so please read on. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

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Down Little Green Lane, at the top of the hill, was an antique mansion, with majestic marble arches and perfectly tended rose bushes all around.

"You shouldn't have come here, Alfred Jones."

Down Little Green Lane, it was so obscure; you couldn't hear a single man scream, even if you tried.

Alfred stopped in his tracks, the grip on his chainsaw faltering for only a fragment of a second. How did this _monster _know his name? It had to be impossible! Alfred self-consciously tightened his grip on the cold handle of his blood-soaked weapon and eyed his surroundings with a wary gaze. "And who the hell are you, you son of a bitch?"

Down Little Green Lane, there lived a man, though not many dared to find out who he was.

A dull laugh echoed through the empty halls, but there was some kind of hesitant edge to its strong take. "Aren't we feisty?" The sound of what Alfred could only imagine being wooden chair legs scraping against an equally wooden floor echoed, followed by the slow sounds of shoe heels clicking against polished floorboards. "There's really no need to be so drastic, but I can only assume you're scared out of your wits – afraid of ghosts, are we?"

Down Little Green Lane, there lived a man who had never screamed himself.

Alfred's blue eyes darted around him, the last shimmers of fearlessness concealed by the darkness, as his jaw tensed. He shifted his chainsaw, swinging it from his side to his front, pointed out in a straight line like a sword. "You're not a ghost," he argued, "you're a–"

"Don't test your luck, boy," the voice echoed again, a sudden kind of new acidity behind it, "you might just regret it."

Down Little Green Lane, there lived a man who had tested his theory of how faraway the sound of shrill screams and blood splatter could be heard. He did so to anyone who came his way – nothing personal.

"I already regret it," Alfred shouted, his mind all the while trying to figure out in what direction that God-damn _awful _sound was coming from, "you're boring the crap out of me."

Down Little Green Lane, the first to be killed was the estate agent selling him the home. Yes, the mansion _would _work out perfectly, thank you very much. The thick walls seemed to be soundproof. The blood easily wiped down, too; what more could a buyer, a murderer no less, ask for?

The clicking of heels stopped for a split second before it continued, the steps as steady as if the one walking had never faltered in the first place. "Ah, so, you want some action?" the voice questioned, flaring with excitement. "Well, although I would ordinarily advice against sneaking into someone's home for a bit of midnight fun, it can be granted. You've brought it on yourself."

Down Little Green Lane, the next victim was a postman. Why, he shouldn't have interrupted the occupant's sleep with his insistent ringing of the doorbell and the harsh bangs of his fist on the window. It was unfortunate, but he just _had _to kill him.

Alfred snorted, the cold of the unheated halls only just starting to bite at his uncovered neck. "Hah, I wouldn't give you so much credit. You're just some creepy old man about ready to keel over and die – but, I guess _your _kind don't age, do they? You must be, what, a thousand years old?"

Down Little Green Lane, the third victim...

There was a light humming sound, and the footsteps came to a stop. Then, making Alfred's blood run cold the very instant, a freezing air travelled down Alfred's jacket collar and down his back, sending his spine into a fit of shivers. Another slither of the sinister air came with a sound, just centimetres from Alfred's ear. "Aha, well, I can't deny that one."

Well, the _third_ victim...

Alfred swung his chainsaw 'round and it hit something hard. A metallic ringing echoed through the empty halls and Alfred only just had time to remind himself he was alone again, alone with himself and his chainsaw and a stack of metal lockers.

_Well._

Then of course it came in a quick cold flush that chilled him to the bone and a cry of agonising pain that showed him just how wrong he was.

Down Little Green Lane, the third victim was a killer himself by the name of Alfred Jones.

The sudden ambusher seemed to take pleasure in the startled shiver his own intruder seemed to take on. "I told you to leave, didn't I?"

What harm was there in a little self-defence?

"Didn't I do the same?" Alfred snarled, quick on his feet.

Apparently, there was too much harm for the killer to ever imagine.

An agonising cry of pain filled the halls as the chainsaw revved, purring and sawing to its heart desire at the side of something thick, something _moving..._

One false move and the first killer was done, down on his knees, clutching at the gaping hole bleeding at his side. His face was torn in pain, in hatred, in a true sense of pure _fear _– that was something he hadn't felt in awhile. He never much cared for the feeling, especially then as the looming figure of a silhouetted murderer towered over his frail form, the bloodied chainsaw in their hand glinting in the pale moonlight, along with an even more sinister glint on his glasses.

He wanted to know who his murderer was by the end of it, and he couldn't help but feel that a name and the low-light of a face was enough. Ah, well, Arthur – the first killer, the occupant of his own home that he was now being slaughtered in – had never given _his _victims as much as a pleasure.

_Wait. _

"Arthur... Arthur Kirkland..."

Alfred narrowed his eyes at the feeble attempts to get him to stop in his crusade of killing. "So, is that your name? I didn't know things like you were even _given _names."

Arthur shook his head, grimacing at the very pain that caused him, pulsing through his veins. "N...no... don't you... remember?"

Alfred shifted positions, the blinding glint of light moving off of his glasses to reveal a pair of startled – perhaps disbelieving – blue eyes. "W-what _should _I remember?"

Arthur attempted a laugh. Nothing came out except a scratchy series of unidentifiable sounds. It sounded more like a cry for help. "Hi... high school... any school... anything?"

The chainsaw lowered only an inch before Alfred felt himself truly lose his mind. "Ar... _Artie?_"

Arthur paused. But he quickly righted himself and nodded slowly, closing his eyes as he felt the seeping pain in his side all but numb away. "Y... yes... that was it... you were in my class... a few, actually..."

It took another second for Alfred's dead weapon to hit the floor with a clatter and for him to fall on his knees, staring into the face of the one he had just diced up like butcher meat in absolute horror, tears gleaming in his reddening eyes. "Oh... oh _God_, Ar-Artie, I-I didn't–!"

"No... no," Arthur mumbled gently against the shoulder of the jacket he found himself being pressed into, "it's... not your fault, Alfred..." He felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his back, pushing his body closer against the bloodstained chest of his murderer. Arthur shifted positions with a wince, resting his chin atop Alfred's shoulder. "You... you shouldn't feel bad, Alfred..."

"Oh God... Artie, I..." Alfred breathed out, tears finally rolling down his cheeks in fresh streams and soaking into the soft blue cloak Arthur was wearing. "I..."

"N-no, Alfred, don't..." Arthur breathed with an equal tiredness, the lulling sense of unconsciousness almost taking his ability to act away from him. "It's... all but a mind game..."

Alfred was only listening to half of the words above his heavy sobs and breaths, his eyes squeezed shut as more tears fell away. How foolish that was.

He only realised his mistake when there were two intense stabbing pains in his neck.

"_Ar–!_" Alfred took a sharp intake of breath, all sensation quickly numbing as he felt the blood be sucked right out of system. "Ar..."

Arthur hummed comfortingly through his bared teeth, sinking deeper into Alfred's sizzling neck, feeling the blood pump in his veins. How he missed that. He closed his eyes, filling up on the glorious feeling as his dying thirst evaporated into the midnight air. His breath was cold against Alfred's warm skin, he could feel it, and it only made the sensation of the boiling blood trickling down his throat even sweeter.

When he started to feel Alfred go limp against him, Arthur released, reluctantly withdrawing his canines from Alfred's ripe fresh. Ah, well, he could always have another drink another day. Now that the fool thought he knew who Arthur was – though Arthur had to admit he never thought the idea would work considering what little fuel he had for his powers of late – he would never leave, he could already see that about the man. It was a shame; really, he must have only been in his late teens, early twenties at most. Arthur was starting to feel guilt pang in his chest. Sadness, even?

Ah, but minuscule details didn't hurt a hair on Arthur's head, or chip the canines he was licking the last of the precious blood off. He didn't even have to _kill _this Alfred fellow. Alfred was like a lamb; he would follow his shepherd, blind to the world and his or her true intent, until one day that very man or woman would send him for slaughter, just a single meal or a few pounds for the day.

But, unlike the helpless baby of an animal, Alfred would _willingly _come back for slaughter. And in the long run, he would probably enjoy it.

It was _brilliant._

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**Summary:**** Alfred enters the mansion on Little Green Lane where Arthur, a legendary vampire, dwells with the intent of killing him. Arthur, through his 'powers', manipulates Alfred into believing that he and Arthur were once schoolmates. Alfred, under this lulled sense of security and guilt, falls victim to Arthur's thirst. Arthur decides he will most likely drink Alfred's blood again.**

**I know the idea of vampire AU's hang around a lot, so I thought I would start one because I am a sucker for reading them! Hopefully you enjoyed this one; I have a few ideas of where to go with this, so if anyone would like to read them, feel free to leave me any reviews and give me some feedback; it's much appreciated! **

**Thank you very much!**


	2. Chapter 2: Reconciling

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

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"_Hey, Artie!" Alfred shouted as he ran forward, greeting the other teen – Arthur Kirkland – with a warm smile. "I haven't seen you for awhile... Are you okay?"_

_After a reluctant pause, Arthur nodded, finding his voice buried within him. "Y-yes... Yes, Alfred, I am fine. It's just that... Well, you know how it is at school. And, well, you know how it is at home–"_

Arthur gasped as he stumbled back from Alfred's limp body, fumbling around for something to grab as he tried to steady himself, the other hand rising to his head to keep his mind at ease. _I wonder why that came up_, he let himself think, letting the thoughts wash over him with a sigh. _It doesn't matter. That's in the past. No need to mix up _them _with all this bullshit I'm feeding him already..._

It wasn't an easy task, creating false memories. The kind that would make this Alfred fellow never lay a finger on the vampire he was suppose to be slaying, and if he were to, it would only be out of something _more. _Love, adoration, let himself snort at the last thought. He still hadn't decided how far to take the charade.

However, he wasn't given much of a chance.

"Artie..." Alfred murmured as he rose from his position on the floor of the hallway he hadn't been moved from since the attack, stretching his muscles as he winced in pain. "W-what happened...?"

Arthur momentarily paused but sighed and shook his head with a light smile. "Oh, nothing to worry about. You took an injury when you saw me on the street side, and I took you home – I wasn't sure how medical fees were for you–"

Alfred shot back against the wall with a loud bang. Arthur fell out of his tell-tale and let his eyes wander to Alfred's shaking form, his eyes mildly calm while the American's were erratic. "Y-y-you're a... Arthur, you're a _vampire!_"

Arthur let his mouth gape open. If he had any complexion, he was sure it would have turned deathly pale. "_What?_" Arthur spat out in disbelief. "H-how could you believe something so preposterous?"

Alfred paused and reached for his neck, his fingers lightly touching two round puncture wounds in his flesh, wincing when he felt them flare up in fresh stinging pain. "D-don't lie to me, Arthur!"

Despite how trivial it was, Arthur was starting to miss his short-lived nickname. "Don't be ridiculous, Alfred!" he chided as he crossed the short width of the hallway towards Alfred again, who in turn shuffled away. "Why would you–?"

"Let me see your teeth."

Arthur frowned. "What?"

"L-let me," Alfred repeated, his inevitable yet rare fear creeping into his voice. "I want to see your teeth, and I want you to let me get a weapon... I-it's only 'cause–"

"You're scared of me," Arthur muttered with a gulp, "w-well... I can only allow you that, if you do not attack me without reason for all your ridiculousness..."

Alfred stayed silent for a moment, but he nodded his head. "Alright."

Watching Arthur with wary eyes, Alfred picked himself up to his feet and crossed the hallway slowly, finding his chainsaw tossed bloody to the side. When Alfred frowned at Arthur, Arthur only replied simply, "I didn't have much time to safely take you here..." With a hesitant nod, Alfred retrieved it and cautiously strolled to Arthur's front, facing him, finding some relief in the fact that he towered – if only by an inch – over him. "So," Arthur continued slowly, "what now?"

"Now," Alfred said as he leaned forward, hesitantly bringing his fingers to Arthur's lips, "I-I need to check your teeth, hero's duty for future incident and stuff."

Arthur stayed silent, frowning, hesitantly parting his lips in compliance. _You could kill him now, Arthur_, Arthur's mind told him as Alfred's determined face edged ever nearer to his, _you could kill him, find another human to drink from, it doesn't matter if he dies, just do it! Do it before he–! _"O-okay..." And so, Alfred began.

Alfred traced his fingers lightly over Arthur's teeth, sensing no disturbance, until his thumb ran over the canines. "Holy...?" He hardly faltered as his thumb ran the curve of the canine, reminding him of a wolf's claw, right down to the sharp point of the tooth. He stayed that way, quite confused, until he stepped back, feeling strange as he imagined blood running out of his thumb. There was none.

Arthur paused, his eyes wide, not believing of what he had just _willingly _allowed to happen. "A-are you happy now?" Arthur commented, a light frown on his face, his lips downturned.

Alfred gulped and scratched the back of his neck, which he felt heating up, a cold chill shaking his body as the hair on his arms and neck stood on end. "Y-yeah..."

"Good," Arthur agreed, the shock swelling his head, "a-and now you'll probably kill me..."

Alfred stood silent, eyeing Arthur up and down, as if evaluating him for something. Arthur, meanwhile, stood, feeling a cold sweat slicking his body and sticking his clothes to his back, his bandages from the near-fatal wound Alfred bestowed upon him shifting. They were soaked with blood, most of the damaged healed by the meal he had made of the man – the monster hunter – in front of him, but still, the pain remained, as did the gaping wound. "W-what are you planning on doing to me? I-I can fight back, you know–!"

"I won't kill you."

Arthur looked up, not believing his ears. "What?"

"I won't kill you," Alfred repeated, his gaze locked onto Arthur's with strength and pride, "I couldn't kill something so wounded and fragile like yourself, it's the hero's code!"

Arthur parted his lips to speak, but no words came out, only broken sounds that he soon formed a question with, "I-it is?"

Alfred let himself laugh obnoxiously loudly. "Yup!" _Nope! _"Killing you would be like killing a little girl, I couldn't do that!" But when Arthur stood still, regarding Alfred with darting eyes, Alfred continued, "I couldn't kill a childhood friend, Arthur... Heck, I couldn't kill anyone I knew, a-and you're no exception!"

And with a hesitant smile, Alfred stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around Arthur's cold body as if it was really helping. And once again, Arthur knew he had won – it was all too _simple. _Except, it really _wasn't._

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**Summary:**** After Arthur is interrupted by his own personal demons when feeding Alfred false memories that detail the vampire as an old schoolmate, Alfred awakes, with the memory of Arthur's species – vampire – still perfectly intact. After confirming this memory as fact, Alfred and Arthur overcome a false-trust barrier, one in which means Alfred will never lay a murderous hand on Arthur. But will he? And after sharing a brief hug, just how solid are Arthur's plans of draining the boy of his blood really?**

**Things will pick up next chapter. Thanks for reading, guys! I hope you enjoyed!**


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